RENAISSANCE
by Oonah V Joslin
Under a sense of duty we returned. We stood on the hill outside the house that was your home,
remembering friends and loved ones we longed to see, now gone. The sparkling bay when
Summer warmed our hearts. That night the moon hung pregnant with dark thoughts; whispering
how long we'd dwelt in the umbra; bad blood not of our making; and how they say blood's
thicker – but it’s not. The super-moon eclipsed the past; expunging it, absolving it. The cord that
held you snapped and left a shining face. Light we turned North as if for the first time; no part of
the heart left behind. North with no backward glance or stalking shadow.
A super-blood-moon
hung womb-like over the bay.
Severed connections.
Gyroscope Review - page 12
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